Holding my breath, I jammed my hand in my pocket. “Please let this be any color except blue,” I mumbled, stuck on Noble and his beautiful face, which I’d kept firmly in mind to block out whatever the hell Abe was doing during his day. Real fear trickled down my spine for the first time in a long while. I sucked in a deep breath. This was stupid. I cared if something bad happened to the little human. I pulled my hand out of my pocket, and an eye, thankfully with a brown iris, wobbled around in my hand, along with the attached string of flesh that should have anchored it in a skull.
“Goddamn it, you animal. Why? I’m throwing it away,” I griped.
Weakness rolled over me. Abe was still strong after being out recently, and he tried to break free of my hold. I bent my head and focused all my power on boxing him up again, chaining him with his own greedy promise for strength. “You can drive again in thirteen days, buddy,” I snarked. “Fuck off.”
But it would only keep him rattling the cage if I got rid of the trophy. It was better to appease him, slake his lusts—for blood and anything else that might satisfy him. Groaning, I stuck the eye back in my pocket and got shakily to my feet. Next stop the car, then the apartment to do something with this damned body part until Abe could add it to his collection.
Some days I really doubted which one of us was the demon.
2
Noble Warwick
Light mist drippedfrom low gray cotton ball clouds overhead, which blotted out the midday sun, and a frosty wind cut through my supposedly waterproof jacket. I should probably have a winter coat today, but I’d given mine away last year and didn’t have the money to buy a new one right now. Shivering, I clutched the black donation collection bag closer to my chest. Nearby a car honked, and I winced as the glare from headlights swept over us and someone zipped into a parking spot at the curb. My throat hurt as I swallowed away the fright, and Journey made a sad sound as he bumped his shoulder against mine.
“Still jumpy?”
“Can’t help it. I never expected Mr. Enoch to snap.” I shuddered, and this time it had nothing to do with the weather.
Journey’s entire body moved with a patronizing sigh, and he unwound a light black scarf from his neck, only to loop it around mine as we walked. I batted at his hands, even went so far as to use my small hand on purpose to try to drive him away—it had never bothered him, though. He didn’t stop until the fabric, soft enough it felt like butterfly wings, hid the worst of the remains of my attack.
“Stop babying me,” I said, with the same volume as a kitten. I couldn’t work up the energy to be mean about him spoiling me because I really was frozen, and the scarf helped.
“No.” His tightly coiled black curls gleamed with droplets of water as we walked past a business front that glowed brightly, and he flashed me a crooked smile that reached his eyes—they were the exact shade of a new penny, which we’d discovered when we were bored and waiting for the clock to run down on the end of a shift at Healing Hearts. I’d been there because I had to pay my rent; he’d been there because he needed volunteer hours for his college application.
The white collar of his turtleneck popped against his tawny chin. Unlike me, he was in a sensible gray wool duster that hit his knees, and black leather gloves protected his hands.
“People keep looking at you,” Journey said, the remains of a British accent a light music in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah. They’re giving more money, too, since I look like I was on the losing end of a mugging.”
“They probably assume I’m beating you for sympathy cash.” He flashed his teeth in a mockery of a smile, but I suspected he wasn’t kidding. Sometimes I was oblivious to what people were thinking. I’d grown up tuning others out for my own sanity.
“I don’t care why they give it. I’m going to flash the unhelpful hand at the next business.” I grinned as he snickered. He was one of the few people in the world I could joke with about myself. “Kids need stockings and toys or it isn’t the holidays. If we don’t get more money in the toy fund now, we won’t have enough time for the bulk orders to get here, and that means we’ll have to buy them fewer things.”
He stepped away and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Agreed. You planning to let the chip on your shoulder fall off anytime soon, or is it going to keep getting bigger until Santa slides down your chimney?” He winked at me.
Flushing, I glanced up at the tall buildings lining the business district. Windows gleamed here and there, bright squares that broke up dark glass eyes that glared down at us. The ground floors were businesses most of us normal people might frequent, interspersed with some boutiques that had to buzz people through the door—and while Journey might pass their tests, I never would.
“Ignoring me?” he teased.
“It’s not even Halloween yet. Was that you implying I need to get laid or an actual reference to the holidays?” I cut him a narrowed glance.
“Both.” His lips twitched as he fought back a laugh. “You’re shivering. Let me buy you a coffee.” He pointed at a Starbucks on the corner, but I shook my head. At the end of the next block, near the iron-gated entrance to Seaton Park, red and white emergency lights flashed. There were police cruisers and fire trucks. Curious, I picked up my pace, and Journey grunted when he noticed what I was staring at. Without really talking about it, we abandoned the idea of going into the next business on our donation list for some snooping.
“It’s definitely going to get bigger, the shoulder chip. One, because I don’t get fucked often enough, no matter what time of the year it is, and two, because I can’t ever shake the gloom. Our holidays were always a disappointment. It started every year with my birthday—”
“Which you refused to allow me to plan a party for last week.”
My entire body burned hot. “I can’t let you do that.” My gaze dropped to my shoes, and it would have taken a crowbar to jack my chin back up. The feeling of being… not worth the time for something like a party weighed heavily on me.
“We’re friends. I like you,” he said quietly. I searched his words for double meanings, but they weren’t there.
“I can’t ever do the same thing for you.”
“That’s not why people are nice to you,” he said crisply, and if I wasn’t wrong there was some anger in his tone, not that he would ever admit it. My muddy knockoff Pollen Yellow Air Jordans were sad next to his genuine black Givenchy boots. “We still could…. Oh, shit, look,” Journey said, startling me. He almost never swore, and it sounded completely wrong. He patted my arm until I glanced up at where he was pointing. We’d walked farther than I’d thought.
About ten yards from us, cop cars were pulled in all around the black iron gate that lined the park. There was obviously something inside at the center of all the chaos, and as we got closer, we were able to see a man’s body on the grass, smack in the middle of the wide lawn that was about half the size of a football field. At least, I assumed the crumpled form on the ground was a man. The clothes appeared to be more like something a guy would wear. They hadn’t even bothered to toss a sheet over the person like they did on TV dramas. No, it was awkwardly twisted legs and arms flung out to the side, clear for everyone to see.
